Grounded
by Flying Semprini
Summary: Simply put, Grounder's last moments. It's a short one and one I may embellish on later if and when I feel like it.


Clankity crunch, went some piece of material underfoot.

Dagnabit, Grounder grumbled to himself as his treads finished mauling the pipe or whatever it was. He was particularly annoyed that he'd been picked to go restart the generator. He could've sworn Coconuts had pulled a fast one on him.

While he had no intent to criticize the Great Robotnik – indeed, he would never declare disloyalty by the very programming in his circuits – this one time, just this once, he wished that the Maker had placed the generator switch to this room towards the entryway where he'd walked in instead of on the opposite wall and partially obscured by a scrap heap. Now it was pitch black and he could only rely on his infrared sensors to see anything at all.

Which did not include metal, particularly the scrap that gave away his position to any being that might be in the room.

They were down here, he was sure of that. Electrons had given up on the normal AC current and were zipping through his wires a la DC at a highly accelerated rate. The drill bits that functioned for his hands and nose were restlessly and vacantly attempting to spin away the anxiety that manifested itself in a RAM overload, slowing down his CPU just that crucial little bit. The fuel tank in his midsection was at critical pressure and threatened to force its contents back up through his mouth input

In short, he was utterly terrified. And slamming into some disposed workbench just now really didn't assuage that much.

He'd heard most of the innumerable reports of what rodents could do to robots. Horror stories of a legion of SWATs departing to defend the city and being totally eradicated, the hacked and sliced condition in which the few survivors would return, countless severed gears and chassis parts – they all had seemed merely academic at the time, but now it was right in his face.

Along with some wire hanging from the ceiling!

"Eat drill, scumbag!" he roared, using his nose-drill to catch and wind up the wire. There was nothing on the other end to pull back, and the wire limply complied. To his disgust, Grounder flung it off, hopefully far enough away.

And he couldn't see anything in the infrared range. That didn't mean he was safe – one particular story had SWATs skinned after being deactived, and the rodents would wear their skins to shield themselves from detection. They could be breathing down his neck right this moment –

A plethora of somethings fell with a crash behind him.

With a shriek, Grounder swerved his head around a full 180 degrees.

Phew. Nobody there. At least he thought.

They were not meant to be enclosed within the confines of Robotropolis in their organic form. It simply wasn't done due to the danger posed. That infernal naïve Cluck and his ideas. Any time Grounder tried to process exactly how the new second-in-command wormed this crackbrained scheme to the Maker's approval, it caused an illegal operation and had to be shut down. Yet he persisted in contemplating this problem. The only solution seemed to be to contact his program vendor.

If he was able to get out of there alive.

With a final slam, his treads met a solid object. That would be the wall. Now where was that switch! His right drill hand was now rotating so fast he had to command a manual override to halt it so he could turn on the lights without boring a hole in the wall. Carefully feeling across the wall – where was it –

Ahh. There. At least he could see all the wavelengths his optical sensors could detect. There would be no surprising old Grounder now. No, any rodents trying to jump him would have to deal with his three-drilled fists and face of fury. Oh yeah, he was prepared.

He swerved around to go back to the elevator to take him upstairs.

…..what?

Impossible – !

"What – how did you – "

A juvenile, orange-furred being standing about five feet from him grinned, displaying his gleaming fangs. Grounder now realized he had oiled himself.

"B-but I – how did I not see you!" he stammered.

The rodent didn't respond, but began to walk at him, his two tails spinning leisurely behind him as he twirled a screwdriver and a blowtorch in his front paws.

Great. Not just any rodent, but one that knew how to use torture devices. At least the blue hedgehog made it quick and painless.

"How did you get in here….. Say something!" Grounder shouted.

Just the snarl of criminal intent. The tails were beginning to spin faster.

CRITICAL ERROR

Grounder's CPU couldn't take any more. He revved up his treads as fast as they would go, charging at the malicious rodent with all three drills blazing. The latter gasped and jumped up over him. Whirling around with a vicious left-arm swipe, Grounder tried to anticipate where his foe would land.

Except he was taking his sweet time to land.

Where…..where did he…..

Grounder tilted his head backwards.

The rodent was flying, hovering straight above his head. With his tails.

The robot turned to flee, but was suddenly slammed on his back, unable to right himself, and his olfactory sensors could sense the creature's foul breath, and he made the mistake of looking forward to see the rodent, standing over him. He watched helplessly as his front hatch was ripped open, and the rodent began to dismantle his inner workings with the screwdriver, and he could only attempt to scream.


End file.
